


cable knit

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: Aquaman (2018), Aquaman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Lingerie, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, Sharing Clothes, catching those big gay feels, convention loss of clothing, culture clash, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-19 00:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: While training, Arthur ruined Vulko's armour, and while tending to him afterwards begins to have some startling thoughts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Two part and IT WILL GET GAYER I'm tired okay. This will land in Overtly Sexual territory in p2

"Sire- Arthur!" Vulko snapped, finally reaching the end of his patience. He clenched the sweater Arthur had just handed him in on hand, shaking it at him.   
"I am Atlantian, I do not feel cold! I am fine to wait for your mother to return with my armour." 

Arthur held out a large pair of wool lined slippers silently, shaking them back at Vulko.

"Put on the sweater, Nuidis."   
Vulko scowled at him. First-naming him like he wasn't Vulko's King. The nerve! He snatched the slippers from Arthur's hand, casting him a dark look. 

"Stubborn Vulko," Arthur teased. "The washroom is down the hall-" he trailed off as Vulko began to pull the tattered remains of his armour off, tossing them down to the floor as he glared at Arthur. The metal scales rattled loudly against the hardwood, the heavy thump a contrast to how supple and light it looked. 

His arm guards rattled to the floor beside the remains of his shirt, loose links of armour dropping free to fall like dark rain. They scattered as they hit the floor, bouncing off into the shadows of the livingroom. Arthur raised his hands in surrender, his advisor yanking the old knit sweater on in rough, frustrated motions. 

The neck of the soft green wool was stretched out from years of wear, and it fit comfortably loose on Arthur- Vulko swam in it, lithe form all but swallowed. He shoved the arms up, bunching the cable at his elbows, up it fell free a moment later. 

"It looks good on you," Arthur smiled at Vulko's tight expression, bending to scoop the majority of the mess up into his arms. 

Vulko ignored him, turning away and smoothing his hair back from his face- long dark strands had come loose from his carefully pulled back style, hanging in his eyes and down nearly to his shoulders. He scrapped them back again and again, but now free, they refused to obey him.

"You want a barrette? For the-?" Arthur made a vague motion towards Vulko, who shook his head. 

"Go get changed. You are dripping water all over the hardwood."

Arthur shifted his armful, then shrugged, leaving Vulko to fight with the damaged and tattered remains of his Atlantian armour.

They had been doing some routine training, simply testing out Arthur's control with his new weapon, but his control... Well, it needed work. 

It had taken everything he had to pull the blow, but the tip of his trident had still caught the front of Vulko's armour, ripping through the Atlantian metal like it was tissue paper. The links had torn, ruining it, and snagged on Vulko's arm; when the water had stilled, they had given up on detangling Vulko's armour from the golden trident Spears, and Arthur had simply had to rip it free. 

It was only the resilience of Atlantian skin that saved Vulko from a wound. They walked away without injuries to anything but their pride. But Atlanna had not wanted Vulko to return home in such a state, and had gone to send for a change of armour; it had been too soon since the near cataclysmic war with the surface, and despite the innocence of the encounter, she had prudently thought it best to avoid stirring any unrest in the general population.

Which left a rumpled, mostly nude Vulko on Arthur's couch, and Arthur not sure what, exactly, he should be doing with him. He stood in the doorway, unwittingly staring at the pale legs of his former mentor, and had to jerk his gaze away as he followed the line of them to the shadowy hem of Vulko's borrowed sweater. 

The Atlantian kept brushing the stray hairs from his eyes. Seizing on it, Arthur tugged the tie free of his own hair, holding it out to Vulko.

"Hair tie." He prompted, at Vulko's quizzical look. The Atlantian shook his head,  
"No, it's fine. It shouldn't be an issue-"

At that moment, whatever was holding his hair up snapped, and for a brief moment they both held their breath- then Vulko's hair came down with a faint hiss as it uncoiled, thick black strands flying free of their tight prison. 

It fell to frame his face in solid, uncut lines- longer than Arthur had expected, the tips passed Vulko's shoulders. 

Arthur brushed his fingertips through the strands, pushing them gently from Vulko's eyes.   
"H-" he paused, and cleared his throat, then offered again. " Hair tie?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I updated the wrong fic  
there's going to be a rating bump!

He'd never seen that expression on Vulko before; the older man opened his mouth to speak, but after a brief struggle to find any words, he simple shut it again, and took the offered tie without a word. He dropped his gaze to the side as he twisted his hair into a low bun at the nape of his neck, elastic going around it twice to keep it from slipping.

Arthur was sad to see Vulko's hair go back up, but this new style was looser, softer. His normal way was sleek- it flattered his face well enough but he had had it for so many years. 

But like this -bare foot and in Arthur's old soft wool, with his hair loose- Vulko looked almost vulnerable. Like the hard edges had worn off.

Comfortable in the way driftwood or beachstone was; natural. 

In a motion Arthur might have called nervous, if he had not known Vulko so well, the Atlantian tucked his hair behind his ears. He seemed wrong footed by the casual dress. 

"Perhaps I should go wait for Queen Atlanna," Vulko started, but Arthur snorted. 

"You aren't wearing pants." He didn't mean it unkindly. 

Actually, Arthur kept his eyes carefully above Vulko's navel- although, given the half formed thoughts that kept intruding, about how thin the wool was, how very.... Noticeable, the outline of Vulko's body was. 

His quick breathing pushing hard nipples again the old fabric.

Arthur shook himself, hard, and refocused.   
Inappropriate, he reminded himself. 

He cleared his throat, "Are you okay? From the-"   
Vulko nodded sharply, "Yes, its-I'm fine. Honestly, S-Arthur, it was just my armour."   
The stood awkwardly, both looking carefully at anywhere else. Arthur nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned away.

"If-if you're sure, I mean. Valko, I hope you wouldn't keep it to yourself, it was accident-" He glance over, only to have all the air punched out of him at the sight of Vulko pulling the hem of the sweater up, holding the hem under his chin. 

Arthur coughed, unable to stop looking; Vulko had a look of embarrassed impatience , colour rising his on his cheeks. 

"I'm fine. Really, Arthur." said Vulko, dropping the clothing to cover himself again. But the image of his pale skin, smooth and scarless, his nipples tightening under Arthur's gaze.

And the tight, bright red panties, barely covering him. Lace edges tight against the curve of his hip, the flash of a tight ass clad only in cherry silk before the wool dropped and covered it again. 

He took a few breath, "Where did you get those?" 

The spike of arousal almost hurt it was so sharp, when Vulko arched a brow and lifted the edge of the sweater, panties peeking out.

"These? They're not yours?" Arthur missed the dip of Vulko's brows as he frowned, because he didn't lift his eyes from the sight before him. 

"No-I, no. They're not mine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the dirty conclusion. Rating has bumped T --> E

A pregnant pause, then a soft “Oh.”

Arthur tried to raise his eyes- he really tried, but the peak of red lace drew his eye. Lithe, pale thighs, well muscled from a lifetime swimming, tensed.

“I suppose—” Vulko started, and Arthur barely caught what he was saying when the Atlantian pushed his thumbs under the lace waistband, and began dragging them down his legs.

He lurched forward, snatching Vulko’s hand away.

“Arthur?” gasped Vulko, startled, but he didn’t fight him as Arthur dragged his hands up, away from his clothes, and held them together. Vulko fell against him, leaner body fitting so easily against Arthur’s; he couldn’t help but nudge his thigh between Vulko’s, wedge his legs apart until the soft silk rested against his jean clad thigh.

“Not a good idea,” said Arthur softly, only beginning to realize how compromised he was. _Inappropriate. _ His imagination had damned him_— _he should release Vulko at once, step away from him. Stop this before he pushed things too far.

Instead he rubbed his thigh into Vulko’s borrowed panties, and watched hungrily as his mentor leaned into him. Vulko’s pale skin flushed, and he squirmed his hands in Arthur’s grip- but only to turn them, and twist them in his sweater. Arthur took it as permission to continue, and released Vulko’s wrists- he wanted to _touch_ him, and he did, running his hands down Vulko’s back to pull him closer.

Arthur took a harsh, ragged breathe, “If you want me to stop,” He whispered.

_“Don’t stop,” _Vulko gasped, pulling Arthur closer as if he thought Arthur might actually leave. The Atlantian was nearly vibrating, tense from head to toe. He smoothed a soothing hand down Vulko’s back, rocking his thigh into the prominent hardness rubbing against him. Vulko pressed his face into Arthur’s chest with a soft noise, so he repeated it; the merman let out a shaky moan, biting his lip to keep his pleasure quiet.

Arthur _tsk_ed, cupping Vulko’s jaw and tilting his head back, thumb running along his bottom lip, smudging away the wet mark from his teeth.

“You don’t need to hide,” his arm found its way around Vulko’s back, tucking him snuggly against him. “It’s okay.” It felt like he was giving himself permission, as much as Vulko. _ It’s okay to touch. It’s okay to want this._ Even if he hadn’t understood until that moment exactly how long he coveted Vulko, desired him.

Tilting Vulko’s hips for him, and setting the Atlantian to grind slowly against his thigh, Arthur tugged free the messy bun Vulko had just put his hair into, and hissed out a noise of approval when the dark strands tumbled free once more, framing is flushed face and drawing the eye to how dark his eyes had gone, blown wide with arousal.

_I want to kiss him._ He realized.

So he did; it wasn’t hard, Arthur threaded his hand in Vulko’s hair - soft, so soft under his fingers- and tugged his head back enough to press their lips together. A childishly innocent kiss, considering he could feel Vulko rubbing a wet spot into his jeans; the Atlantian responded with enthusiasm, pushing up into the chaste kiss, lips wet and open as he breathed harshly.

Arthur had never touched another male Atlantian intimately, but Vulko seemed to be more intensely affected by the intimate contact then he would have expected. All Arthur did was grind his leg into Vulko’s erection, and the shorter man was melting into his touch, panties wet with some kind of Atlantian slick; Arthur broke off the kiss, wanting to see Vulko’s face as he climaxed.

He didn’t have to wait; perhaps he had been that close, or just the aspect of being _watched_; Vulko gave a sharp noise, and bit his lip again but couldn’t smother the moan as his eyes unfocused. His face and neck flushed, hands gripping hard in Arthur’s sweater, and he spilled in the borrowed panties as he worked his hips in quick, jerky motions.

Slick was dripping down one of Vulko’s legs, and his frantic motions had made a dark spot on the top of Arthur’s thigh; Arthur rubbed his hand up and down Vulko’s spine, mouth pressed to the crown of his head as Vulko fought to get his breath back.

Arthur was hard, aching in his jeans, but ignored it. Just took a moment to drink in post-orgasm Vulko, and try to sort out if he had something else Vulko could change into.

He snorted.

With boxers, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i legit had no idea at all what I was writing so thanks for sticking around   
*clown honking noises as i wander away*


End file.
